Spotlight
by MarkDavidChapman
Summary: Based on Pink Floyd: The Wall. Just a look at Pink's Nazi concert/rally from the POV of a fangirl who doesn't know what she's in for.


Spotlight

Today is the best-and last-day of my life.

I was delighted when I finally got the tickets to Pink's concert. Just the fact that he would be gracing this town with his presence was enough to make me grin like an idiot for three whole days, and when I laid my hands on the tickets it was almost too good to be real; I lifted them out of the envelope as carefully as though they were an ancient, sacred document before jumping around the house in a fit of ecstasy and squealing and bashing my knee into the desk and not even caring about pain because who cared about pain when ohmygod_Pink_wascoming!

I spent the two months leading up to the concert giggling at random times from sheer joy, and marking off each day on the calendar to count down to THE day, which I was positive would be the most important day ever. The week prior I used to recheck my ability to sing every single one of his songs at various speeds and to watch every video of every one of his concerts I could find, laying awake pondering what this one would be like, what he'd sing, which of us in the audience would scream their admiration for him loudest-it would be me, as I figured it would be a wasted night if I didn't wake up the next morning unable to talk from a hoarse throat.

THE morning (a Saturday unlike any other), I woke up before the sun was even up, because I didn't want to miss a single minute. I dressed in my homemade T-shirt that said LOVE PINK (and how could anyone with sense _not_ love him?) and I don't really remember anything else in between that and getting in the car to go to the concert, just that most of it passed in a haze of singing and trying not to explode from excitement.

When I arrived, I had to stand in line for a really long time, and that only made me feel even more excited and also tense, like a firecracker about to go off. We all walked into the hall at last, and I saw that it had been decorated like some kind of political rally, with a podium and some weird hammer logos on the ceiling and everything. That was a cool twist; maybe Pink was going to start touching more on politics? Those had never been my cup of tea (a thing I heard him say once in an interview), but as long as it was Pink singing, I could listen to an album about income tax returns.

I filed through the aisle to my seat, which was in a respectable place. I hadn't gotten the prized seats so close to the stage you could hear his footsteps, but I was pretty close anyway, and I had a spot aligned with center stage, so I'd get a good view. I noticed that there were already some people onstage; they appeared to be some sort of choir and maybe a brass band. That was rather unusual for Pink's genre of music, but why shouldn't he have a choir? I could also see some guys dressed in all black walking up and down the aisles and it looked like they had attack dogs with them. This would surely be a great show, and while I was baffled as to what was coming, I knew that I'd love it with all my heart, just like every one of Pink's albums and B-sides, even that one in '76 that people said meant he was going downhill but I knew better-it had its good points; few maybe, but they were there.

I was distracted from my musings as the brass band kicked in and heads started to turn in the crowd as everyone looked up towards a door on the far left, on a balcony that wasn't part of the stage. I stood on my tiptoes and tried to see Pink, and I think maybe I caught a glimpse, but so many people were up there that I couldn't be sure. Then my attention was drawn back to the stage as a pair of spotlights zeroed in on a huge curtain with the same weird logo-I figured I'd better get used to it; it might be part of a new album.

As the bouncy tuba riff swirled though the cheering crowd, of which I was an unquestionably enthusiastic part, the curtains parted and Pink walked out. He was dressed in some sort of uniform (further evidence for my politics theory), with a new hairstyle, and there might've been something different about his face-eyebrows maybe-but he still looked as awesome as he always did. He flashed his trademark endearing smirk and approached the podium, as the crowd quieted in anticipation of the song.

I was kind of irritated because it wasn't one I knew-and since I knew them all, it had to be a new one-but that meant we got a preview of a new album and a new sound! I focused my entire being on making out his words, and noted that this sounded like a speech and song at the same time, taking the best parts of both.

Pink gave a small, derisive chuckle at the end of a line about "that space cadet glow" (whatever that meant) and we all laughed along. I didn't really get the joke, but his laughter and totally epic drawling voice made me happy enough to laugh anyway.

He then informed us that "Pink isn't well; he stayed back at the hotel," and I entertained a brief thrill of confusion-excellent lyrics, as always-before realizing that this must be an alter-ego sort of thing, trying to capture a new point of view by pretending to be somebody different. And when the artist-formerly-known-as-Pink shouted "we're gonna find out where you fans really stand!" we all screamed to show him that we all stood with him, no matter what.

He leaned in close to the microphones as though telling us a secret, and asked, "Are there any queers in the audience tonight?"

I was puzzled again-I'd never heard that Pink was homophobic, as that was probably part of the act, so was this a statement about that, then?-but saw that several of my fellow fans had turned and were pointing out others in the crowd. Pink screamed, and I took a moment to hope he didn't hurt his throat, "_Get 'em up against the wall!_" Guards descended on these people and dragged them, kicking and yelling, up towards the stage. I couldn't see what they were so mad about; they probably got autographs later! If anything, I was about ready to stand up and falsely proclaim myself lesbian to get to go an inch closer than I was already (with my legs pressed into the seat back in front of me) to Pink, or whoever he was now.

He followed that quickly with "That one in the spotlight, he don't look right! Have him up against the wall!"

To my amazement, one of the large beams of light from the rafters fell on the guy next to me, and while I blinked in the sudden ache-inducing radiance in my eyes, I felt hands on my arms, yanking me out of the crowd as well. I could not believe my luck as we were hauled up the aisle, toward the podium, and I felt a pang of jealousy when the guy got hit in the stomach by his captors, each carefully timing their blows in synch with the choir's repetition of "'Gainst! The!" He was getting a fuller experience than I was, and even though I knew they were only pretending to hit him, I wanted to pretend to be in pain too.

We made our way up through the audience and passed the stage, and I had to quickly swallow the fierce explosions of joy that made me want to burst into hysterical laughter and proclaim my undying love for Pink. After all, we were now putting on a show for the audience, one that I was honored to have been chosen for, and it wouldn't be very in character to suddenly shriek that I wanted to have his babies, no matter how true that was. Instead, I forced an expression of fear and pain, though of course I felt none.

We passed so close that, as Pink continued with his tirade, I felt a few flecks of his spit hit me on the cheek. I knew that had been accidental, but those little specks alone were worth more than the sixty-some dollars I'd paid for tickets. I couldn't wait to go to school later and tell my friends that, not only was I at Pink's best, most interactive concert yet, but _he'd spit on me!_ I didn't have a free hand to touch it, as both were pinioned to my back by the super-awesome guard guys, but I could feel it glistening beautifully. I would never wash my face again, since it felt like hallowed ground.

They dragged me over to one side of the stage and turned me around, then shoved me roughly against the wall. I could see the crowd applauding wildly, chanting, doing some kind of salute that I hadn't had time to master. The people on either side of me had their backs to the wall too, but they all looked scared for real. I thought that was rather stupid of them.

All our eyes widened-theirs in fear, mine in barely restrained enthusiasm-as the guards drew out what looked like handguns and pointed them at us. This was an intriguing twist; we were clearly supposed to be some sort of prisoners of war facing a firing squad. On the stage, Pink finished his truly fantastically racist rant with a cry to us of "If I had my way, I'd have all of you shot!"

I was too busy watching his speech and the well-placed pyrotechnics display to notice what happened next, but I heard a series of much closer explosions and a few of my wall-buddies cried out. I had a hard time not yelling in glee myself as a feeling of ecstasy greater than I'd ever felt sliced into my heart like a glorious knife, so inexpressibly pure it was almost painful-

Wait. It _was_ painful. Why was I in pain? I could feel it growing now, an ache and dull throbbing sensation. I glanced down and had only a second to observe in mild surprise the blood pouring out of my chest before my legs stopped holding me, and I fell to the floor.

_ They must've been loaded guns, _I thought, as I was overcome with sudden sleepiness and the world started to spin. _Nice touch._

I wished I had the energy to cheer, but instead I laid there, with my face (fortunately the spit-free side) pressed into the concrete, watching Pink. I was dimly aware, in some corner of my mind, that I was about to die, but mostly I was proud of how cool it was that my blood would be in the floor and everyone who went to the concert hall would get to see it.

I keep my eyes focused on Pink, who gives us all a stunning glare from behind his crossed arms, and it's like I've never realized before just how lethally beautiful he is. As the feeling starts to fade from my limbs, I hold one thought in my mind:

_ This is the best show ever._

Until my vision fades to darkness, I will stare into his eyes…


End file.
